


disappointments far from their thoughts

by fucking_eyelashes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Boggarts, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Fluff, Drarry, First Kiss, Hogwarts Third Year, M/M, Oneshot, kinda fluffy?, little angsty/sad, non Canon, pre war, young drarry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:13:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26338558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fucking_eyelashes/pseuds/fucking_eyelashes
Summary: Little third-year Draco discovers his Boggart is not what he thought it would be and the one person that hated him the most cares too much. Maybe they can be just two boys in need of a refuge from their thoughts.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 11
Kudos: 119
Collections: Drarry





	disappointments far from their thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> hi! this is kind of shitty but i had fun writing it. there’re probably loads of errors but i hope y’all like it :)

Draco rolls his eyes at the black cupboard a few inches away from him, praying the lesson would get over soon. Their new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher was making them fight off Boggarts. Bloody Boggarts for gods sake, Draco thought to himself. He could be doing much more productive things than this. He’d been spared from participating last class when Potter’s turn was over. He always had to ruin everything didn’t he? Always the center of attention, all the girls staring at him like he was the fittest bloke they’d ever seen. Not that he wasn’t fit, he’d gained a little muscle when he came back for third year and his messy hair started to look a little less like a bird’s nest. That’s besides the point. “Mr. Malfoy, would you care to step forward?” Professor Lupin said, jarring Malfoy out of his thoughts. Draco rolled his eyes and looked at the students gathered around him. It couldn’t be so bad, he thought. What could possibly come out of that closet that he couldn’t defeat? He stepped forward, faking confidence as he’d learned to do a lot recently. “Ready?” The professor asked, and Draco nodded his head, gripping his wand tight in his hand, the spell at the tip of his tongue. The large, black cupboard started to rattle, shaking loudly till it stilled. The door swung open and out strode a face that Draco was all too familiar with. He heard gasps erupting from every corner of the classroom but he tried to steel himself and focus on what was in front of him. He looked up and in his line of vision was long, blonde hair, dark robes, and a face that he got his own from. He felt like he was staring into the man’s eyes for hours rather than seconds when he saw someone’s face move around in the corner of his eye. He turned his head so slightly that no one would notice, just far enough to the left to see who was looking at him. He almost jumped back at the unfamiliar expression on the familiar face. It was Potter. He looked at him with kindness in his eyes, raising his eyebrows as if to ask the silent question: are you okay? He couldn’t afford to be distracted by Potter’s startlingly green eyes, not now, not while he was being embarrassed like this. Draco snapped his head back to Lucius Malfoy’s face in front of him, and imagined him in the most brightly coloured robes and multicoloured hair, channelling his energy into the spell. “Riddikulus!” he screamed, sharply pointing his want towards his fathers face. His appearance morphed into the exact one in Draco’s mind and as the class held their stomachs in laughter, he stepped back to his spot between Crabbe and Goyle, hoping everyone had forgotten the last few minutes of the class. 

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

He made his way to the Great Hall as dinner had almost ended, hoping to avoid Harry and still get to scarf down a meal. He blushed at the name Harry. Of course, he only called him that in his head, god forbid he actually say it to the boy. It was ridiculous really, how one boy’s name could get Draco so riled up. He lost himself in his thoughts, walking briskly. No one had mentioned anything about the Defence class all day, except for some people giving him small pitying smiles as he strolled through the halls. He would’ve been perfectly content, had it been just this reaction. This was a small number of people he hardly knew, hardly cared about. And he could glare at them till they looked away. But of course, in true Potter fashion, Harry had to mess things up. His eyes had been on Draco all day except rather than the usual withering glances, they were concerned stares. Draco needed it to stop because every time he looked back into those eyes he felt like melting into a puddle. And he could not afford to do that. Even when he told Potter off earlier in the day for something that wasn’t even his fault, the boy simply shook his head and turned to walk away without a word. He knew he wouldn’t let this go. He would probably start up some bloody rumours in the Gryffindor common room and Draco’s (mostly) peaceful time at Hogwarts would be ruined. He sighed to himself as he rounded the corner to The Great Hall. He slid through the small distance the door had been opened and scanned his eyes around the room. The Slytherins and Ravenclaws had all gone to bed, probably because of the quidditch match the next day. There were a few first-year Hufflepuffs at the far corner of their table and at the Gryffindor table there was one head hung low, sitting in isolation. Draco took one look at that unruly mop of hair and knew who it was in and instant. He considered turning right around and going back the way he came, there was barely any food left at the Slytherin table anyways. His other option was to risk facing Harry, and eat whatever remains of food he could. God, he was being ridiculous. Since when could a measly little Gryffindor boy keep Draco from doing what he wanted? He was never this afraid, he thought. It’s all because of his stupid, stupid crush. He cursed himself for falling for the one boy that pissed him off the most. Before he could pause his thoughts and come to a decision as to what he’d do next, Harry was strolling up towards Draco and pulling him out of the hall by the arm. “Just what do you think you’re doing Potter? Get your hand off me!” he spat. He really, really needed Harry to get his hand off of his arm because Draco felt like he would positively burst at any kind of skin contact with the boy. Harry dragged him to a small corner near the hall but out of sight. Draco could’ve easily let himself out of Harry’s grip but for some reason he didn’t fight it. He let him pull him away by his arm. Harry finally dropped his arm and looked around nervously as if checking to see if anyone was looking at them. Dear god, Harry wasn’t going to kill him was he? No, there was no way, the Saviour himself would never do that. Finally those breathtaking eyes landed on Draco and before he could register anything he was being pulled towards Harry, being wrapped in his strong arms. His instant reflex was to fight it off so he absentmindedly pushed Harry away. He regretted it the moment he’d done it, he saw hurt flash on Harry’s face but it was immediately replaced with a calmer expression. His torso still tingled in the places Harry had placed his hand on and he felt a blush starting to creep its way up his neck. Draco angrily thought why he ever cared what Harry felt or if Harry had touched him. “What the hell was that, Potter?” He asked, crossing his arms across his chest, impatiently tapping his foot on the floor. “You don’t need to pretend Malfoy” he replied, that annoyingly peaceful expression still on his face. Draco must’ve looked as confused as he felt because Harry spoke again, “I just wanted to check in. I know what happened in Defence Against the Dark Arts couldn’t have been easy for you,”. Draco looked down and fiddled with the hem of his shirt. God, he must be really nervous, he never got fidgety. “I have no clue what you could possibly mean, Potter,” he said, his voice bitter. “Look, it’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it, just know that I understand what you’re going through and I’m here for you,” Harry said quietly. Draco let the words wash over him and took his time to process. He felt his eyes stinging but he forced his emotions down. He was not going to cry like a baby, especially not in front of Harry. He looked up, his face in a scowl and growled, “Go. Away, Potter. I don’t need your bloody sympathy!”  
Harry opened his mouth to speak but Draco was already half way down the hall, briskly walking back, by the time he could say anything. 

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

He trudged up to his room and slammed the door behind him. Who the hell did Potter think he was? How would he ever know what was happening to Draco? He probably just wanted to get information out of him to use against him. Stupid, stupid Draco, he thought while changing out of his robes. He’d hugged him. He’d hugged him. Harry freaking Potter, the bloody Chosen One, the Boy Who Lived, his enemy, his crush, had hugged him. And he pushed him away. Well of course he did, what was he supposed to do? Cry on Harry’s shoulder? He wasn’t going to give in to the trickery no matter how much Harry would touch him. He climbed into bed and burrowed under the covers and tried to calm down. Soon his thoughts drifted calmer things. But god, his arms were so strong and lean and his stubby little fingers had wrapped around the small of Draco’s back and he just wishes he stayed there for a second longer. He drifted off to sleep, Harry still on his mind, wondering when he would stop caring about him. 

The next morning, Draco took his time getting out of bed, not looking forward to whatever was going to happen with Harry once the day started. He’d barely slept all night, tossing and turning and staring at his ceiling. When he woke up he looked ghastly, his hair ruffled almost beyond repair, bags under his eyes and heavy eyelids. But by the time he was ready he looked like his regular self except for his white-blonde hair which he couldn’t be bothered to gel back, he’d be running his hands through it the whole day like he did when he was anxious. Everyone else had already headed to breakfast, even Crabbe and Goyle couldn’t wait a few extra minutes for pumpkin juice. He walked down to the Slytherin common room and as he stepped out the door he almost ran face first into someone. He stumbled backwards and fell against the closed door behind him and looked up to see, the one and only, Harry Potter standing there before him.  
“Okay, before you start shouting at me again, hear me out. Please?” Harry pleads in a hushed voice. Draco doesn’t feel like himself. He doesn’t have the energy to fight off Potter anymore so he shrugs and gestures his hand for Harry to go on. Harry lets out a breath Draco didn’t know he was holding and he starts, “Look, I know we aren’t friends or even people that don’t mind being around each other. Trust me, I get that. It just seemed like your friends didn’t notice what happened yesterday so I wanted to check in. Believe it or not, I know what it feels like to feel out of place in the house you grew up in.”. Harry bit his lip, waiting for Draco to respond. Draco channelled whatever fight he had left and spat, “Oh how sad, Saint Potter didn’t have a perfect childhood! Don’t go around pushing your own family issues on to me, I love my family!”. It comes out louder than he means it to and when Harry speaks, the volume of the conversation further increases. He yells, “I was just trying to be nice Malfoy! I’m not trying to push my issues on to you! I thought the fact that my family was abusive could help you understand that I know what you’re feeling!”. There are tears glistening in his eyes and his stance has gone on the offence, leaning forward and hands in fists at his sides. He caught Draco by surprise, admitting something he never thought Harry would ever have the courage to tell anyone. Draco certainly didn’t. Until he feels his own tears welling up and suddenly it’s like his mouth has a mind of it’s own. “My family never abused me. My mother has never been anything but caring. It’s not that I don’t feel like I belong either.” Draco says softly, staring down at his feet. “It’s my father. Nothing ever pleases him.” Draco admits, shuffling his feet around on the floor, a tear escaping and trailing down his cheek. He can’t look at Harry’s face as he says this. He’s started something now, he might as well finish it. “I try everything, I study even harder than the Ravenclaws, I practice Quidditch, I act like a cunning, rude Slytherin to everyone in this castle. But every summer I go back to the Manor and there’s always something I could have done better. I’m not scared of my father, Potter. I’m scared of disappointing him.” He finally sighs and brings his eyes back up to the boy in front of him. He’s not the only one who let himself open up, he realises and sees Harry’s tears glistening on his cheeks.  
They stare into each other’s eyes and it feels like time is suspended, just two boys trying to find a refuge from their thoughts. Harry staring into Draco’s stormy grey ones as Draco stares into Harry’s charming green ones. Draco feels Harry stepping towards him gingerly, a small smile growing on his lips. “I’m going to hug you now, okay? I’d prefer it if you didn’t push me away this time,” Harry says, amusement in his voice. Draco rolls his eyes and smiles despite himself. Harry takes that as a sign of encouragement and proceeds to envelop Draco between his arms. He feels Harry’s chest pressing lightly against his and his head resting on Draco’s shoulder. For the second time in 24 hours, Draco is absolutely molten. This time, Draco’s own hands snake around Harry’s narrow waist and connect behind his back, Draco placing his chin on the boy’s shoulder. He can’t remember the last time someone cared so much about him, so he lets this happen. His skin feels like it’s on fire and when Harry moves his face slightly, his hair brushes against the side of Draco’s face, and Draco’s breath hitches slightly. Harry pulls back the slightest bit, a playful smirk on his face. He’s right in front of Draco now, their faces only inches away from each other. He thinks, if he leaned in just the slightest bit, his lips would touch Harry’s but he holds back. He doesn’t need to ruin whatever’s going on right now. He doesn’t realise what’s really going on till Harry’s eyes move away from Draco’s, gaze shifting slightly down on his face. Harry’s tongue darts out and licks his own lips so quickly that Draco’s not sure it even happened. Draco’s heart starts pounding. Was Harry just looking at his lips? He wonders why Harry’s stupid Gryffindor impulsiveness isn’t acting up because the boy doesn’t seem to be brave enough to just lean forward. He can’t take the tension in the air anymore, so Draco starts to lean forward but before he can move, Harry closes the distance. Their lips press together gently and as Harry’s hand moves up Draco’s waist, to his neck, to his hair and runs his hand through it, Draco moves one hand down to lace with Harry’s free one. Draco thinks distantly, from whatever part of his brain is still functioning, that this is exactly how he come to expect Harry’s kisses: sweet and deep, their tongues brushing together, getting lost in themselves, disappointments far from their thoughts.


End file.
